serted.

She knew that if she did not escape soon some disaster would overtake
her, some disaster in which both Roddy and Rachel would be involved. She
knew also that, in some way, Rachel's safety absolutely depended upon
her--She felt, within herself, a struggle as to whether she should save
Rachel. She did not wish to save Rachel.... But some impulse drove
her....

She ran down the passage, stumbling in the strange indistinct yellow
light--She knew that, could she only reach the garden, Rachel would be
saved.

She reached a window, looked down, and saw below her, like a green pond,
the lawn overgrown now with weeds and bristling with strange twisted
plants.

She flung open the window and tried to jump, but a cold blast of some
storm met her and drove her back. The storm screamed about her, the dust
rose in the room, the plants in the garden waved their heads ... the
wind rushed through the house and she heard doors banging and windows
creaking.

She knew suddenly that she was too late--Rachel was dead.

She stood there thinking, "I thought that I hated her--I know now that I
loved her all the time."

The storm died down--died away. A voice quite close to her said, "You
made a mistake, Miss Rand. People have souls, you know--having a soul of
your own is more important than criticizing other people's.... People
have souls, you know."

She woke and heard a clock strike seven. As she lay there a sense of
uneasiness was with her so strongly that she repeated to herself, half
sleeping, half waking, "I wish to-day were over, quite over, quite over.
I want to-day to be over."

She was completely wakened by a sound. She lay there for a little time
wondering what it was. Then she realized that something was scratching
on the door.

She got out of bed, opened the door and found the dog, Jacob, sitting in
the long dark passage, looking through his tangled hair into space as
though the very last thing that he had been doing had been trying to
attract her attention. Jacob was nearer to a human being than any animal
that she had ever known. He had attached himself to Miss Rand and she
had decided, after watching him, that he knew more about the situation
in the house than anyone else. To catch him, as he watched, with his
grave brown eyes, Roddy or Rachel as they spoke or moved was to have no
kind of doubt as to his wisdom, his deep philosophy, his penetration
into motives.

He liked Miss Rand, but she knew well that